


Day By Day

by TrishaCollins



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Gen, In doing so he takes care of his own sanity, Maes takes care of Roy, Roy is not in a good place, War is hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-12 03:02:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20557136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrishaCollins/pseuds/TrishaCollins
Summary: In Ishval, Hughes has his routines.





	Day By Day

Months in Ishval and his life had a certain pattern to it. Enough of one that he liked it, it made sense out of the chaos. Go out, come back, find Mustang and eat. Sleep if he could, smoke if he couldn't, and start all over again.

But he couldn't find Roy.

It worried him, Alchemists were dropping like flies on the front. Just last week Roy's roommate had been shipped back with his hands encased completely with blocks of stone, giggling to himself and rocking.

Alchemists weren't like soldiers, they didn't leave the front quietly or in a box. They left it on medical hold for self inflicted or in chains.

Very few now left in chains, they needed them too badly.

Mustang wasn't in the mess, and he wasn't in his tent, and he wasn't with the other Alchemists. Though that group tended to avoid each other like stray cats, and the few he had found in their ready room were glassy eyed and barely seemed to register his presence.

He got a plate and made some basic sandwiches out of biscuits and whatever they were calling meat, and piled it up with enough calories that the mess hall lady was looking at him. "Alchemist." Only got him so much leeway, but she knew it was for Roy.

Just a few more days, just a few more weeks. If he could keep Roy on the line for just a little bit longer they would give him anything he wanted.

He was pretty sure that was the reason for the last three promotions.

He found Roy sitting on the ground outside the washroom, or whatever they called the structure this week. Head down on his knees, gloves bloody, and eyes staring into the middle distance.

Shell shock, they called it. Turned out Alchemy shouldn't be used as frequently as it was, or for this purpose.

"Alright, time to eat." He told Roy cheerfully, kneeling down to get an arm around his waist. He had clearly not made it to the showers, because the black dust still clung to his hair and clothes. His lips were cracked and bloody, skin peeled back by his teeth.

Roy was passive, not resisting but not helping, body as poss-able as a doll.

He got him to the empty tent, setting the plate of food aside for now and working on getting the clothes off. They smelled, the smell was the worst. Burnt hair, charred meat. Bone had a particular smell when he burned hot enough.

He peeled the gloves off, noting the raw fingertips and the scuffed palm. Later. Later. Clean him first, get rid of some of the smell.

The BDU was cast in the corner, near the empty bunk he shared a room in. "Even the officers share now, you know?" Boots off, stripped down to his undershirt and shorts. He looked young, he always looked young. Baby-faced. But nobody who knew who he was commented on that anymore.

Roy gazed past him, sightless and empty.

He left and came back with a bucket of water and the cleanest towel he could find, dampening half of it to deal with face and arms, careful around his tender hands. The joints were swollen. They usually were these days. He dried Roy's hair, and hung the towel to dry.

He was rewarded with a blink and a sort of hazy awareness that told him Roy was coming back, even if just a little bit. he usually came back in inches, slow, in fits and starts.

It took longer these days.

Longer every time.

He puled a blanket around his shoulders, brushing hair back from his face and bringing over the plate. This was usually the best time to get him to eat, before memory kicked in. Sometimes, if he weighted too long Roy couldn't eat.

"Maes." Roy's voice was raspy, blue eyes finding his.

"Yeah." He touched the back of his wrist.

Roy drew a shuddering breath, staring at the food. "Is it over?"

He grimaced. "For today." Thumb circling against his wrist. "Eat, and I'll wrap your hands. I got more of that gel."

Roy nodded, mechanically eating the food, not looking like he tasted a bite.

"Do you need a drink?"

Roy blinked again, but offered a nod.

He stood, rummaging through Roy's footlocker until he came up with the bottle and a tin cup, filling it to the brim and bringing it back to him.

Roy took a swig directly out of the bottle, grimacing at the taste, and set the food aside.

He moved the plate to side table, getting out the salve and the wraps.

Roy drank quietly, eyes locked on the tent wall.

This, too, was a routine.


End file.
